


The Way Forward

by DizzyDrea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Introspection, Trope Bingo Round 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry finds friendship in an unexpected place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Forward

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading a lot of Harry Potter fanfic lately, and it's gotten me to thinking about how things would have been different if Harry and Draco had been able to strike up a friendship while at Hogwarts. This story isn't that, of course; it's just a short window into what might have happened if they'd been able to put the past behind them after the war. If you squint your eyes and tilt your head just so, you can even see some pre-slash.
> 
> For the _unexpected friendship_ square on my Trope Bingo Round 7 card.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its particulars is the property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloosmbury Publishing, Arthur A. Levine Books and a lot of other people who aren't me. I'm doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Harry Potter found himself wandering the grounds of Hogwarts, not entirely sure of what he should be doing.

He'd defied death, it seemed. 

That thought made him a little giddy. He giggled, covering his mouth in an effort to squash the sound. All around him was death and destruction, and even though the battle was over and the war won, he didn't think it was exactly appropriate to be laughing. If Hermione were here, she'd be appalled, he was sure.

He shuffled along, his eyes barely looking up from the patchy grass under his feet. Even though he didn't have a destination in mind, his feet seemed to carry him along a path only they knew. He sidestepped gouges and hopped over holes without much thought as he continued along his way.

It was nice, actually. Not having to think. Not having to plan. Not having to worry every second of every day that one of Voldemort's followers—perhaps one known to them, but even more worrying, one they hadn't met or heard of yet—would capture them and bring them before their Lord.

When Voldemort fell, it hadn't just lifted a burden from Harry's shoulders, it had been like being reborn. His seventeen years on this planet had all been leading up to that moment, the great climax of his life. Now that it was done, he felt like he could finally breathe.

He had no illusions that the work was finished, though. They may have won the Second Magical War, as it was now being called, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be skirmishes for a good long time. Not all of Voldemort's followers had perished or been captured. Some had slunk away into the night, hoping to hide from the authorities and one day rise again. They would never be as powerful as they had been during Voldemort's heyday, but men and women like them sought power for power's sake, and even without their Dark Lord, they'd still seek out power and control. It was the way of things, unfortunately.

Which made Harry's next decision both easier and harder. He'd told Professor McGonagall that he wanted to be an Auror, but that was before the final battle. It had seemed the right choice to make, given that he'd have to face off against Voldemort sooner or later. Best to have the skills and training to take on a man like him than to step into that particular arena unprepared.

Now that the job was done, and he could make any choice he wanted to—including professional Quidditch player, if he really wanted to—he still thought being an Auror was his best choice. There were still dark wizards out there that needed to be taken down; still innocent victims that deserved justice. 

And while he didn't feel like he owed the wizarding community anything more after defeating their greatest threat, he did feel as though he had a duty to protect people from the worst that society could conjure. He had skills he'd learned over the years, and a desire to see justice done. The only way he could do that would be as an Auror.

Some might think he was crazy, or that he'd gotten a taste for blood and wanted more. Harry thought it might have more to do with the fact that he could do it than that he had to. There weren't a lot of people who could, and since he was one of a small number who'd qualify, he needed to use those skills for something worthwhile.

He stumbled a bit, finally looking up as he let those thoughts drift away. Somehow, he'd wandered his way to the Quidditch pitch. Great gouges had been scored in the turf, and the stands were bent and frayed, leaning precariously in some places so that the whole thing looked like it would fall down, except it hadn't figured out quite how yet.

And there, amid all the destruction, was a familiar figure, sprawled out on the grass, staring up into the twilight sky.

Draco Malfoy.

Theirs had never been an easy relationship, but all the bad blood between them seemed insignificant in light of what they'd just survived. And hadn't Malfoy helped, in his own small way, at the end of it all? It seemed like he'd earned a second chance, and after everything he'd been through, Harry thought maybe that was just about right.

With that thought in mind, he made his way onto the pitch and settled on his back beside his erstwhile enemy. Malfoy turned his head, his eyes bugging out just slightly when he realized who had lain down beside him.

"Potter?" he asked. There wasn't any trace of malice in his voice, just honest confusion.

"Malfoy," Harry said. He didn't look over, didn't move, just lay there, watching the last wisps of sunlight disappear as the starts took over the night sky.

They lay that way for some time, not talking, just being. It was nice. Harry couldn’t have imagined thinking that about spending time with Malfoy before, but maybe things were different now. He certainly hoped so.

"I thought you'd be inside," Malfoy said after a while. "Celebrating."

Harry shrugged, though he wasn't sure Malfoy could see. "I was. Bit overwhelming, truth be told. I wasn't supposed to survive, so I guess it feels strange to celebrate not dying."

Malfoy practically gagged. "Merlin's beard, Potter. You don't pull any punches."

"What's the point?" Harry asked. "I was expecting to die trying to kill Voldemort. Everyone was expecting me to die trying to kill him. I'm pretty sure even Dumbledore expected me to die in the attempt. I'm as shocked as anyone that I didn't, frankly."

"Always exceeding expectations, Potter," Malfoy said, snorting. 

Silence spun out between them as more stars filled the sky. Not even the night birds and insects were singing. It was eerie in the extreme, but also maybe a fitting reminder that things weren't just going to go back to normal, now that the war was over. There would be plenty of work to do, and everyone needed to take time to heal, whether their injuries were physical or mental. The war might be over, but the real work was just beginning.

"So, what will you do now?" Malfoy asked.

"Become and Auror, I think," Harry said. It was the first time he'd said it out loud, and it still sounded right.

"Can't get away from it, can you?"

At any other time, Malfoy's words, innocuous as they were, might have triggered Harry's temper. Now, they just made him really consider his motives.

"No," he said. "It's not that I enjoy the fight. It's that I'm good at it, when others aren't. If I can do it, I should. Fight for others. Protect them. It's sort of a duty, I suppose. To serve the Light. To protect the Lady Magic from those who would use her to cause harm."

"Always have to be the noble one, don't you?" Malfoy said, with what Harry thought might be admiration in his tone. "You're such a bloody Gryffindor."

He shrugged instead of giving an answer. He didn't think he was being particularly noble. Just doing what had to be done.

"What's your plan, Malfoy?" Harry asked. "Now that you've come out the other side."

He glanced over to see Malfoy frowning. "I… don't know. To be honest, I wasn't sure I'd survive, after turning against the Dark Lord. I'm living on borrowed time, I think. What does one do with that?"

"With a second chance?" Harry asked. When all he got was Malfoy's stony silence, he forged on. "Join me. Become an Auror."

Malfoy sat straight up. "Are you daft? Why would they ever want me? I've got the Dark Mark, in case it escaped your notice. They can't trust me, and they have no reason to."

Harry sat up and faced his one-time enemy. "You have more to offer than you think. Besides the skill set—and you and I both know we could duel for an hour and still be stalemated, not to mention that you're better at potions than I am—you have something they desperately need."

"Oh? And what is that?" Malfoy asked with a familiar sneer. "My charm, perhaps. Or my good looks?"

"No, you toff plonker," Harry said, frowning. "Your knowledge. You were a Death Eater, even for a short time."

"I'm not seeing that as a positive, Potter," Malfoy said. "I'm the sort they'll want to be putting in Azkaban. Besides, it's not like I know anything of use. Most of the Dark Lord's followers are dead, and the ones that aren't have scattered. I never saw most of the places the Dark Lord spent his time, so I can't even lead the authorities anyplace useful."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You were raised by a Death Eater, if you'll remember. Raised to think like them, behave like them. You have insights even the best Aurors don't have. You have _knowledge_ , Malfoy. Knowledge that'll be useful to them, and they'd be fools to ignore that."

"I'm not sure that'll be enough," Malfoy said quietly, his eyes dropping to his lap.

"You also have your father," Harry said, equally quietly. "He escaped from Azkaban; he's probably still wanted by the Ministry. If you could convince him to cooperate, I'm sure they'd be willing to make allowances. It might even keep him from having to go back."

"Oh yes, because we absolutely trust the Ministry now, don't we?" Malfoy sneered. "I can't imagine why you'd think I might agree to this hair-brained scheme of yours."

"Because you've got a second chance, Malfoy," Harry said, his voice firm, his conviction never wavering. "You owe it to the people who died trying to save your life to _do something_ with it."

He appeared to be considering it, if the faraway look on his face was any indication.

"Do you really think they believe we've changed sides?" Malfoy asked after a moment. For the first time, there was faint hope in his voice as he looked up at Harry. "And even if they do, what's to say they won't just throw me in prison, too? Or just decline the offer?"

"I won't let them," Harry said. He couldn't say why this mattered to him, only that it was important. "I'll tell them we come as a package. If they want me, they'll have to take you."

Malfoy sat for long moments, just staring at Harry, his mouth slightly open. Finally, he shook his head, as if that would make it make sense somehow. "You'd do that for me? Why?"

Harry took a deep breath. "You once extended the hand of friendship to me, and I slapped it away. It was a mistake I've regretted for seven years. How would things have been different if I hadn't done that?"

"Harry," Malfoy said. "It's probably better that we didn't become friends, you have to know that. My parents were encouraging it because they thought we could somehow turn it to our advantage. And I don't think that meant changing sides."

"You mean you think your parents would have tried to get me to come over to Voldemort's side," Harry said. "I've thought about that, but I don't think so. Your father understood the cost of being a Death Eater, and I think it's something he regretted. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. I think he was looking for a way out for you. And I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner."

Malfoy didn't appear to have anything to say to that, but Harry wasn't bothered like he might have been once upon a time. It was a lot to take in. Hell, Harry was still trying to figure it all out. But he didn't want to take it back. He couldn't.

He reached out a hand, waiting expectantly for Malfoy. The other boy sat staring at it for a long while before reaching his own hand out to clasp the offered one. Harry smiled.

"I'm Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you."

Malfoy just laughed, as if it was all so very absurd. And it was, really. They'd known each other for seven years, but the truth was, they really didn't know each other at all.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, still smiling. "Call me Draco."

"Harry," Harry said, nodding. 

"You're barmy," Draco said. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "All the time."

They sat there for a time, grinning like a couple of loons, still holding hands, though neither of them felt embarrassment for it. It was like they were both loathe to let go and break the spell. Finally, common sense won out.

"My arse is cold," Harry said. "Let's go in and see if there's any dessert left."

"Still thinking with your stomach, I see," Draco said, but there was no malice there, just fond teasing.

"You've been eating the house elves' food for seven years, and you question my devotion to dessert?"

"Good point."

Harry stood up and used their joined hands to pull Draco with him. His sleeve slid back, revealing the Dark Mark to Harry for the first time. He just stared at it for a moment, a chill working its way over his skin. He'd only seen Snape's once or twice and never for long, but he'd known it was a foul piece of magic. It seemed duller, now that Voldemort was dead, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

"I heard Hermione talking to Flitwick about a way to remove that," Harry said as they headed back to the castle side by side. 

Draco tugged his sleeve down over the mark as they walked. "I hate it, but I don't think there's a way to remove it."

"Hermione used a similar spell to charm the coins we used to notify the DA about meeting times," Harry said, revealing something that hadn't been widely known. "If anyone can figure it out, she can."

"Do you think she'd—"

"You were the one she was thinking of," Harry said, not even waiting for him to finish the thought.

"I owe her an apology, I think," Draco said, shaking his head. "I think I owe a lot of people apologies."

"That's not why she's doing it, you know," Harry said. 

"I know," Draco said. "But that doesn't change the fact that I've made enemies out of a lot of people with the things I've said. Most of it too foul to repeat. I was repeating what I was taught, but that's still no excuse."

"So vow to do better," Harry said. "You don't have to be the same person you were before the war."

"Second chances?" Draco said, giving Harry the side-eye.

"Second chances," Harry said, nodding. "We've all been given one, and we all have a responsibility to make the most of it."

"You sound like Granger," Draco said, shaking his head, but there was an amused smile playing at his mouth.

Harry chuckled. "Yes, well, I've spent the last seven years listening to her. You try ignoring her when she gets wound up about something."

Draco merely smirked. It was so much like the camaraderie that Harry enjoyed with Ron and some of his other friends that for a minute he wondered if he wasn't actually dreaming this thing with Draco. But then the doors to the castle came into view and Draco slapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on, Potter. Before the Weasleys eat all the good stuff."

Harry slowed down and watched Draco bound up the steps and disappear into the Great Hall. He shook his head and followed his—well, he supposed Draco could be considered his friend now, against all odds—up the steps and into the dining hall. 

The scene hadn't changed much since he'd left. The ceiling was still spelled to show fireworks, there was still much shouting and laughing and back-slapping. People seemed lighter, somehow, but he supposed that was to be expected. They had, after all, survived a war.

The future was looking brighter by the second, and Harry felt at last as though his future held promise. He slipped into the seat beside Neville and reached for a treacle tart as he listened to some of his friends tell their tales. 

He felt more than saw Draco slide in beside him. All eyes turned to them, quiet descending on their table for a moment, but then just as quickly, conversation resumed as if nothing unusual had happened.

Harry turned to Draco, one eyebrow raised, as if to say _See? Everything's okay_. Draco nodded in return, pulling another tart from the pile and digging in heartily.

Harry sighed, a small, happy sound. Yes, the future was going to be interesting. But he'd take interesting any day. 

~Finis


End file.
